’Certainly I am spared the temptation myself of seeing the luxury and extravagance which must tempt one to feel hard and bitter, I should fear.  We go on quietly and happily.  You know our school is large.  Thank God, we are all well, save dear old Fisher, who met with a sad boating accident last week.  A coil of the boat raft caught his ankle as the strain was suddenly tightened by a rather heavy sea, and literally tore the front part of his foot completely off, besides dislocating and fracturing the ankle-bone.  He bears the pain well, and he is doing very well; but there may be latent tetanus, and I shall not feel easy for ten days more yet.

’His smile was pleasant, and his grasp of the hand was an indication of his faith and trust, as he answered my remark, “You know Fisher, He does nothing without a reason:  you remember our talk about the sparrows and the hairs of our heads.”

’"I know,” was all he said; but the look was a whole volume....

’Your Charlotte is Fisher’s wife, you know, and a worthy good creature she is.  Poor old Fisher, the first time I saw tears on his cheeks was when his wife met him being carried up, and I took her to him.

’The mail goes.  Your affectionate Cousin,

‘J.  C. Patteson.’

It may as well be here mentioned that Fisher Pantatun escaped tetanus, lived to have his limb amputated by a medical man, who has since come to reside at Norfolk Island, and that he has been further provided with a wooden leg, to the extreme wonder and admiration of his countrymen at Mota, where he has since joined the Christian community.

The home letter, finished the last, had been begun before the first, on Feb. 11, ‘My birthday,’ as the Bishop writes, adding:—­’How as time goes on we think more and more of him and miss him.  Especially now in these times, with so many difficult questions distressing and perplexing men, his wise calm judgment would have been such a strength and support.  You know I have all his letters since I left England, and he never missed a mail.  And now it is nearly ten years since he passed away from this world.  What would he say to us all?  What would he think of all that has taken place in the interval?  Thank God, he would certainly rejoice in seeing all his children loving each other more and more as they grow older and learn from experience the blessedness and infrequency of such a thoroughly united, happy set of brothers and sisters.  Why, you have never missed a single mail in all these sixteen years; and I know, in spite of occasional differences of opinion, that there is really more than ever of mutual love, and much more of mutual esteem than ever.  There is no blessing like this.  And it is a special and unusual blessing.  And surely, next to God, we owe it to our dear parents, and perhaps especially to him who was the one to live on as we grew up into men and women.  What should I have done out here without a perfect trust in you